Having to undo it all

I can remember the first and last time I ever cried in public. My friends had just verbally attacked me, blaming me for a rumor I never even heard. No one would believe me when I told them I didn't start it. I ran to the bathroom down the third grade hallway. I huddled myself in the corner and cried. I remember 3 girls ran after me, and immediately aplogized.
I got pity from it, back when I would accept it.

4th grade changed me. That was when people started to hate me. Our OM group...everyone shunned me, made fun of me, behind my back and to my face. I started to cry during one meeting, but it only made things worse.
People I thought were my friends, but proved me wrong.
Through that year, I learned how to not cry, but it didn't do a whole lot.

It started up again in seventh grade. Walking from D Lunch out to the portables for Texas History.
"Hey! You wanna play Connect the Dots?"
Every-other day I was taunted.
I was taught to stand up for myself, but my legs were quickly broken.
Changing after P.E...
"Hey!! I want to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk. I told you that."
Once I was dressed and was about to leave.
"Hey! She's gonna kick your ass for saying that!"
From then on I avoided conflict, as I was threatened by her daily, with no one around to help me out.

I wanted to cry. I needed to cry. But my tears meant weakness. I couldn't show weakness. I strengthened myself up, and stopped feeling the hurt. Stopped showing any emotion. Any weakness. I hated my life that year. And if it wasn't for the 2 people(out of family) who truely cared for me, I would have taken it.

I wanted to end it all. End the hatred and the pain.

When musical came around, I made friends, I felt a part of somthing. I felt...loved.
But I didn't make any close friends, they were all 8th graders who left at the end of the year.

And now...
I have true friends. Close friends.

Still afraid of what may happen again. Unable to open up because of it.
There are times when I want to cry, but I know if I do I'll show weakness. One stray tear ripped me apart before, and it can do it again.
Knowing that they do care about me, but trapped in my concealed box. Afraid of the attention, afraid of the caring.
Afraid that I'm nothing but a third wheel, someone who just won't go away.

Always confused in a world that's ever-changing. For one week I wasn't confused, but I ran back to it as soon as I could.

At the beginning of this year, I promised myself I'd open up. Whats another broken promise?

The past is coming back to me, now. The one thing keeping me from what could be happiness.

The hardest thing to do is undoing somthing someone else brought upon you.